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by captnalbatr0ss



Series: The Captain and his Quartermaster [25]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8101387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captnalbatr0ss/pseuds/captnalbatr0ss
Summary: Sam and Rafe and some late-night pillow talk. They've come far since Rafe sprung Sam from prison, and they reflect on where they've been, and where they are now.





	

* * *

It was late. But then, they’d been in bed for hours already, curled together beneath layers of blankets, and it was all soft—their voices, their touches, their kisses. Light and easy, intimate.

The weather was mild, though it would soon be colder in Maine. But for now, the windows were open, and the doors, welcoming in the sound of the ocean. A night breeze. 

Sam lived for moments like this, with Rafe in his arms, basking in their shared body heat, so close in the dark that Sam couldn’t quite tell where he ended and Rafe began.

They faced each other, each with their head on their own pillow, where eye contact was easy, even in the moonlight, and Sam’s hand was slowly caressing—up and down Rafe’s arm, his shoulder. His eyes were on Rafe’s, watching as each upstroke, each brush of fingertips against the sensitive skin of his shoulder made his eyes close.

Sam slid his hand further up, let it rest on the side of Rafe’s throat while his thumb stroked along his jaw, and when Rafe moved closer, Sam took the opportunity to slide one of his legs between Rafe’s, hook it around the back of Rafe’s knee, and urge him even closer.

“A’right, I gotta ask you something—it’s been buggin’ me.” Sam finally broke the silence.

“What is it?” Rafe’s voice was low, and had an edge—it was already weighed down with sleep.

“Your house.”

“Don’t you mean _our_ house?” Rafe raised a brow.

“No, before. And not the apartment we had for awhile, I mean the one you took me to after—”

“Oh.”

Rafe cut him off before he could finish, but Sam wasn’t surprised. Years ago, as their relationship deepened, as they’d reached a sort of mutual understanding that this thing between them made them both happy, and long before Sam had slipped a ring on Rafe’s finger, Rafe had all but forbade mention of the word—it was painful. For both of them.

_Panama_.

When Sam talked about his time there, he tried to keep it vague. He knew that Rafe still felt that regret very deeply, but Rafe knew that Sam needed to talk things out sometimes. Each did their best to accommodate the other.

“That was years ago. Why bring it up now? What about it?”

“I guess, it just… I never thought it fit you. I mean, I get it, with money not being a thing. But the money was always a means to an end for you, it was a tool. Sure, you flaunted some, and maybe I figured, at first, that you were just some rich kid, but after I got to know you… I dunno, I saw the way you handled money. It didn’t mean anything, you just had it.”

Sam brushed his knuckles across Rafe’s cheekbone, tried to read the expression on Rafe’s face, but couldn’t. So he pressed on, but not before catching Rafe’s lips with his own, letting them linger there as long as he dared without losing his train of thought.

“Even the auction, at the Rossi estate, you didn’t raise the bid to impress anybody, you did it because it meant you’d walk away with what you needed.” 

Sam paused at the change on Rafe’s face, the pain in his eyes. Even after extensive discussion, and thorough apology on Sam’s part, Rafe struggled with that betrayal. Getting Sam back after all those years, only to lose him again—

Rafe closed his eyes, immediately finding the ring on his finger, touching it.

Reminding himself.

_He’s still here. He’s still here. He’s still—_

“Hey—hey, look, I shouldn’t have brought that up, I know it took us awhile to work through all that shit. I’m sorry. I just—I always wondered. How you…ended up with a place like that.”

Sam trailed off, held his breath. Rafe had gone blank, his eyes were on Sam’s face but that’s not where he was looking, and Sam knew that Rafe was in the process of making a decision.

Rafe vacillated between remaining in the moment with Sam, despite the old aches it unearthed, or shutting down, withdrawing.

_Stay, or go._

_Hold, or retreat._

Sam felt Rafe begin to pull away, and his heart sank. They’d tried so many times, countless times, to have small conversations, introspective like this, that didn’t hurt. That could have a beginning, middle, and end without Rafe closing off. He thought it was getting better, but inevitably something would come up, something painful in their past, and the distance would come again.

Rafe was moving away, but then he stopped, and Sam watched him, curious. 

A series of expressions moved across his face, and Sam found it mesmerizing to watch. How quickly they came and went, but how clear they were in the moment. Sadness, and defiance, hurt, hope, and a sort of decisiveness.

He came back.

On his own, he came back. Sam felt a sudden rush of emotion when, for the first time— _the very first time_ —Rafe let the pain move him toward Sam instead of away.

Sam’s arms locked around Rafe as the smaller man pressed his face into the crook of Sam’s neck, and he held on tight.

“Where are you,” Sam whispered softly, nuzzling Rafe’s cheek. “Where did I send you just then?”

“The house.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry I asked—”

“I never meant it to be just me there.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“I bought it just before we left. I wanted to tell you—but I thought it would make a great surprise once— …once we got back from Panama. I had more than I knew what to do with, and it was stupid. What did I know? Stupid. But I expected we’d be working together for the foreseeable future, and it made sense to stay close. Easier to work on finding the treasure that way. And I knew what a dump you two were living in.”

He paused then, pulled back enough to find Sam’s eyes again, something to focus on, to hold him there—keep him from retreating after all. 

Sam waited. Patient, silent. His grip on Rafe didn’t waver, nor did his gaze, and he had a feeling he knew where the story was going, but he almost couldn’t believe it.

“I wanted to impress you, Sam. Both of you. I knew you liked me well enough, but Nathan—all he ever thought I brought to the table was money. So be it, then. I wanted to show just how valuable ‘money’ could be. Because I knew it for all of the things you two didn’t; I knew all the ways it could be useful—useful all the time, not just in those moments you couldn’t find your way without it. And I wanted to show you.” 

Rafe’s focus shifted from Sam’s eyes to just past him—the window. The reflection of the moon against the surface of the water.

“The truth is, I was afraid of finding the treasure too fast—” A stifled chuckle, laced with irony. ”—because then you wouldn’t need me anymore. I wanted to give you both a reason to… I bought that house for us. For _all_ of us.” He sighed, shook his head. “I thought…if I could give that to you—a place to live, somewhere you could be _proud_  of, that maybe we’d find Avery’s treasure and…that wouldn’t have to be the end of it. That you might be willing to stay. Happy to, even.”

Sam opened his mouth, wanted to say something, but words failed him. Instead, he stroked his palm over Rafe’s hair, smoothed it back slowly.

“After you—” Rafe’s voice caught, and Sam felt his fingers at the old wounds, the scars, knew Rafe was reminding himself that yes, it had happened—that memory was real—but so was Sam, here. Now. In his arms. “After what happened, Nathan and I went straight to Scotland. And I never got the chance to tell him. But it didn’t matter anymore anyway.”

He stopped again, abruptly, and Sam could tell by the look on his face that he was done.

“Rafe.”

Rafe pursed his lips, Sam could see him working to reign in the emotion. Sam leaned down, offered up a tender kiss.

“You bought it for us?”

“Yes.”

Rafe closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Even with Sam here now, and things okay, it hurt Rafe to think about the time they’d lost. In his years alone in that house, he’d imagined it all. Start to finish. The Drakes moving in, Nathan finally accepting him as an equal part of the trio. Building a relationship with Sam, spending more and more time together until eventually, and almost too gradually to notice, he ended up sharing the master bedroom with Rafe.

There had been so much Rafe had hoped for. So much that felt like loss, even on top of Sam’s ‘death’. And every time Rafe thought he was close to truly putting it all behind him, _something_ sent it bubbling back up again.

“Please,” he finally murmured. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Okay, baby.”

They fell into a moderately comfortable silence, and Sam kissed Rafe again, hoping to help push the bad memories to the back of his mind. Rafe relaxed against him, quick to let Sam in—that was getting better, too. Rafe was learning to trust Sam that way, trust him to chase away what hurt.

“For what it’s worth,” Sam whispered, lips grazing Rafe’s earlobe. “I like the _home_ we have now. And I love you.”

“Sam,” Rafe sighed, stealing another kiss. “That’s worth everything.”


End file.
